Which witch is which?
A feminist analysis of
Terry Pratchett’s Discworld witches
University of Halmstad Faculty of Humanities Lorraine Andersson 2006-06-03 Thesis for a Masters of Arts in English Supervisor: Kristina Hildebrand
i
The researching and writing of this work took place while I was working full time, and so took time away from my family. I would therefore like to give my great appreciation to my husband, Hans, and my daughter, Emelie, who were understanding when mummy had to “go work on the computer”. Many a Pratchett novel was re-read to a background of cartoons, which is perhaps why a couple of cartoon characters made cameo appearances in this essay. Thanks also to my in-laws, Margareta and Arne Andersson, who gave me childfree afternoons when I could concentrate.
I would also like to thank the head of the English Department at the time, Monica Karlsson, who allowed me to read the course when it was not officially offered. Thanks also go to Timothy Cox for taking time to read this essay and give helpful feedback. Last but in no way least, a huge thank-you to my tutor, Kristina Hildebrand, who would willingly spend hours talking Pratchett.
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Terry Pratchett, writer of humorous, satirical fantasy, is very popular in Britain. His Discworld series, which encompasses over 30 novels, has witches as protagonists in one of the major sub-series, currently covering eight novels. His first “witch” novel, Equal Rites, in which he pits organised, misogynist wizards against disorganised witches, led him to being accused of feminist writing. This work investigates this claim by first outlining the
development of the historical witch stereotype or discourse and how that relates to the modern, feminist views of witches. Then Pratchett’s treatment of his major witch characters is examined and analysed in terms of feminist and poststructuralist literary theory. It appears that, while giving the impression of supporting feminism and the feminist views of witches, Pratchett’s witches actually reinforce the patriarchal view of women.
Keywords: Terry Pratchett, Discworld, witches, speculative fiction, feminism, poststructuralism, discourses.
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Foreword ... i
Abstract ... ii
Introduction ... 1
An Overview of the witch stereotype in history ... 3
Historical literary images and the witch discourse... 7
From the historical discourse to modern witches... 10
An introduction to Terry Pratchett’s writing style ... 15
Terry Pratchett’s witches... 18
Esmerelda Weatherwax... 21
Nanny Ogg ... 27
Magrat Garlick ... 29
Agnes Nitt ... 31
Tiffany Aching ... 33
The Coven of Three – Maiden, Mother, Crone... 37
Pratchett’s Feminism... 39
Conclusion... 43
‘Which witch is which,’ said one of the girls cheerfully. ‘Anyone can do that pun, Lucy Warbeck,’ said Annagramma without looking round. ‘It’s
not funny and it’s not clever.’ Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky (London: Transworld, 2004).
Introduction
Throughout history, the image and understanding of “the witch” has changed dramatically, and is continuing to change even now. In Europe, the Judeo-Christian patriarchal society ensured the transformation of the witch into our current stereotype of children-eating, black-dressed, evil-looking and just plain evil witch of modern fairy tales, cartoons and myth. Every Halloween she makes her scripted appearance in order to frighten small children and amuse adults.
However, a slow but growing movement, begun sometime in the middle of the last century, is working to redeem and reclaim the witch image – redefining her role and appearance. Wicca, feminist witches and other modern witches seek to define the witch archetype as something positive and multifaceted rather than all negative. That it is women, on the whole, who are performing this uncoordinated ritual of redemption, is not surprising. What is the focus of this essay is a man with a wide scope of influence who may be claimed to actively take part in this process, namely a writer of popular fiction, Terry Pratchett.
On the whole, most male writers of popular fiction who write female characters tend to stick to the usual, safe stereotypes. Even when casting a woman as the protagonist or creating strong female characters, male authors do not necessarily avoid misogyny. The misogyny, or the lack thereof, in the texts often remains a subject of debate, as in Stephen King’s case1.
However, Terry Pratchett has largely escaped this debate, mainly through his having escaped feminist criticism entirely. What makes this oversight interesting is the fact that Pratchett has actually used witches as protagonists in a number of his books.
It has been alleged that Pratchett has a feminist slant to his writing: “Pratchett’s feminism never becomes strident, and seems impossible to dispute; this novel [Equal Rites] was even serialised on BBC Radio 4’s Woman’s Hour.”2 That Pratchett has a pro-feminist slant appears to be the case considering his frequent musing over women’s rights in Equal
1
See Kathleen Margaret Lant & Theresa Thompson, eds., Imaging the Worst: Stephen King and the representation of women (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1998).
2
Rites and other novels, for example in A Hat Full of Sky: “Tiffany smiled. It should be
‘sorority’, not ‘fraternity’. We’re sisters, mistress, not brothers.”3
Yet, Pratchett’s feminism does not appear to be congruent with itself. Whilst touting women’s rights, he seems to be, at the same time, reinforcing patriarchal stereotypes and mores. Pratchett’s Lucy Warbeck may be right in wondering just which witch is which.
This essay will examine Pratchett’s feminism through his treatment of witches in the eight ‘witch’ novels of the Discworld series: Equal Rites (1987), Wyrd Sisters (1988),
Witches Abroad (1991), Lords and Ladies (1992), Maskerade (1995), Carpe Jugulum (1998), The Wee Free Men (2003) and A Hat Full of Sky (2004).
Starting with a brief synopsis of the historical development of the witch stereotype or discourse and its link to the literary stereotype/discourse, this essay will then detail Pratchett’s characterisation of witches and attempt to show that while appearing to be pro-feminist, Pratchett’s treatment of witches seems to be incongruous, revealing an underlying patriarchal paradigm. It seems that while superficially adhering to the feminist witch views, at a deeper level his characterisations actually reinforce the patriarchal view.
3
Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky (London: Transworld, 2004) 326. Further references will be in the text as HFS.
An Overview of the witch stereotype in history
The concept of the witch has been with humanity for untold millennia. Exactly when the idea or concept formed and what it looked like will be forever lost in the mists of time. One thing we do know is that the concept of the witch has changed over time. There are numerous scholarly works charting the history of witches and witchcraft, mainly during the last two millennia, and so only a brief sketch of that history is given here.
One of the early mentions of witches lies within the Judeo-Christian influence, being found in Exodus 22:18. God tells Moses on Mount Sinai: “You must not allow a witch to live.”4 Later, in 1 Samuel 28, we find the king Saul who, having himself banned and persecuted witches, puts on a disguise and goes to consult, “a woman who has a familiar spirit”.5 The woman is commonly known as the witch of Endor and, having conjured up the dead prophet Samuel for Saul, she shows compassion and hospitality to the shaken Saul. No mention is made in the Bible of the source of a witch’s power, and whether she worships some kind of god or magical entity.
Moving into the Christian era, St. Augustine (354-430), one of the most influential Christian writers and saints, categorically condemned witches and witchcraft. He spent his life battling heresy and is a well-known misogynist in religious feminist circles. According to Brian Levack6, in his comprehensive historical collection of witchcraft documents, Augustine addressed the witchcraft heresy in a number of his works and decreed that all who practised witchcraft were heretics as well as pagans. Augustine influenced both medieval Catholic and Protestant witch hunters.
The first great Catholic canon that deals with witches is the Episcopi, which was most likely written some time in the ninth century. It was compiled with other canons in the twelfth century by the monk Gratian, and became, “one of the most famous and controversial texts in the history of witchcraft.”7 Although not widely used until the fifteenth century, it was seen as being sceptical of witches and witchcraft. It states:
It is also not to be admitted that some wicked women, perverted by the Devil, seduced by illusions and phantasms of demons, believe and profess themselves, in the hours of night, to ride upon certain beasts with Diana, the goddess of pagans,
4
The Revised English Bible with the Apocrypha (Avon: Oxford UP and Cambridge UP, 1989) The Old Testament, 65.
5
Bible, The Old Testament, 255.
6
Brian P. Levack, The Witchcraft Sourcebook (London: Routledge, 2004), 27.
7
and an innumerable multitude of women, and in the silence of the dead of night to traverse great spaces of earth, and to obey her commands as of her mistress, and to be summoned to her service on certain nights.8
It goes on to point out that other people who believe in witches are led from the true faith into error, that is, heresy. However, most telling is his description of the error of faith, namely, “that there is anything of divinity or power except the one God”9 (my italics).
Moving on, the 14th century saw the Irish trial of Dame Alice Kyteler in 1324. That trial,
marks one of the milestones in the development of the early modern stereotype of the witch. […] Dame Alice and her associates were accused of sacrificing animals to a demon and using powders, ointments, and lotions to commit murder and persuade young men whom she had infatuated by magical means to give their possessions to her. The accusation that she had had relations with an incubus demon also was a standard charge.10
Already aspects of the stereotypical witch of modern fairy tales can be seen.
The next great and influential publication concerning witches, issued in 1486, was the famous, or infamous, Malleus Maleficarum, written primarily by the Dominican monk Heinrich Kramer who, according to Levack11, was obsessed with the sexual aspects of witchcraft. This document challenges and dismisses the more sceptical texts, stating firmly that witches and witchcraft exist and are a threat to the church.
In this discussion Kramer contends that the canon Episcopi […] which asserted that witches claiming to go out at night with Diana were deceived by the Devil, was not a denial of the reality of witchcraft. The second theme is that the Devil needed witches as well as the permission of God to perform their destructive work. The third theme is the highly misogynistic argument that witchcraft was practised mainly by women whose intellectual feebleness, moral weakness, and sexual passion led them to become witches.12
Malleus Maleficarum also dismisses the ‘erroneous’ belief in the power of goddesses and
wrests power away from Diana, putting it squarely in the hands of a male demon, the Devil and God – all seen as male in the patriarchal Christian church. Patriarchy has thus removed
8
H.C. Lea, Episcopi, translated in “Materials Toward a History of Witchcraft” (Philadelphia, 1954) as quoted in Levack, 34.
9
Lea, as quoted in Levack, 34.
10 Levack, 39. 11 Levack, 58. 12 Levack, 57-58.
any residual power from women by setting Diana firmly in the power hierarchy, with the Devil, and ultimately God, above her. Interestingly, the publication also depicts women as victims; led astray by the Devil because of their feebleness – a replication of the Devil’s deception of Eve in the Garden of Eden.
Kramer’s Malleus Maleficarum chapter 4, “Here follows the way whereby witches copulate with those devils known as incubi” and “Chapter 6. How witches impeded and prevent the power of procreation”13 seem to present a neat explanation of men’s
victimisation in the face of demonic women who cuckold them and cause them to be impotent:
Husbands have actually seen Incubus devils swiving [copulating with] their wives, although they have thought that they were not devils but men. (…) Intrinsically they [witches] cause it [impotence] in two ways. First, when they directly prevent erection of the member which is accommodated to fructification. (…)
Extrinsically they cause it at times by means of images, or by the eating of herbs (…). But it must not be thought that it is by virtue of these things that a man is made impotent, but by the occult power of devils’ illusions witches by this means procure such impotence, namely that they cause a man to be unable to copulate, or a woman to conceive.14
It seems that witches became a convenient scapegoat for men’s sexual problems, yet it was not their own power or actions that caused the problems. The power lay with the Incubus devils (male) that governed the witches.
The 16th and 17th centuries saw an explosion of witch persecution. According to Levack15, William Perkins’ treatise of 1608, The Damned Art of Witchcraft, was highly influential in England and reflected St Augustine’s position. Perkins stated that it was the pact with the devil that was the witch’s error, and not merely any evil acts, maleficium. He also noted that, although men could be witches, women outnumbered men. King James I of England was also very influential and took a very hard line in his treatise on witchcraft written in 1597. Even most of his contemporaries found his trials and punishments harsh, according to Levack.16
13
Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger, The Malleus Maleficarum, ed. Montague Summers, as quoted in Levack, 66-67.
14
Kramer and Sprenger, as quoted in Levack, 67.
15
Levack, 94.
16
Another influential treatise of the 17th century was by Pierre de Lancre, a French magistrate who presided over witch trials in Spain. He described the witches’ Sabbath in detail, especially the sexual aspects:
De Lancre plays the role of eye-witness and observer, and in describing the ceremonies of the Sabbath, especially the dances […] he also assumes the role of ethnographer, showing how dancing reflected Spanish traditions of the people of Labourd. Like many other demonologists, de Lancre emphasizes the fact that the great majority of the witches whom he tried were women.”17
At the same time, the famous Lancashire trials took place in England. Marion Gibson’s deconstruction of witchcraft trial documents,18 which examines the trial of Alizon Device in Lancashire, shows how historical records concerning witch trials and anti-witchcraft
pamphlets contain inconsistencies that raise doubt as to their accuracy. She quotes a description of the stereotypical witch as written by Reginald Scott in 158419:
One sort of such as are said to bee witches, are women which be commonly old, lame, bleare-eied, plae, fowle, and full of wrinkles; poore, sullen, superstitious and papists[…]These go from house to house, and from doore to doore for a pot full of milke, yest, drinke, pottage, or some such releefe; without the which they could hardlie live[…]It falleth out many times, that neither their necessities, nor their expectation is answered or served.20
Scott wrote the treatise, The Discoverie of Witchcraft, which was published in 1584. Unlike many of his contemporaries, Scott was, according to Levack21, sceptical of witches and witchcraft. His treatise examined the social aspect of women, as reflected in his description of the witch stereotype, and contended that witches were no more than old, poor women who inconveniently placed a burden on their community. Gibson points out that the entire concept of the witch is suspect:
There is no stable thing called ‘witchcraft’ which lies hidden beneath its various constructions. […]This is borne out by the depressing realisation that we can never know what witchcraft meant to a witch because there are no unmediated
17
Levack, 104-105.
18
Marion Gibson, Witchcraft Trials – Stories of Early English Witches (London: Routledge, 1999).
19
Gibson, 80.
20
Reginald Scott (as quoted in Gibson, 80).
21
accounts of it, so that ‘witchcraft itself’ in that sense no longer exists, and never did exist in writing.22
Gibson seems to be saying that witches and witchcraft were social constructs, without external validity or ‘truth’. Scott’s treatise essentially challenged those constructs, thus destabilising them.
The persecution of witches, at least by governmental or ecclesiastical bodies, trickled to an end in the 18th century, and the last witch trial in England was carried out in 1717.
According to Levack, “the English witchcraft statute of 1604 and the Scottish statute of 1563 were both repealed by the British parliament in 1736.”23 This was not a public denial of witchcraft, however, as the public’s belief in witchcraft continued.
Historical literary images and the witch discourse
This judiciary reprieve did not prevent the public and the media from continuing to persecute witches. Plays, and later novels, helped people to form their image or stereotype of witches. In poststructuralist literary theory, the witch stereotype could be more accurately termed the witch ‘discourse’. Hans Bertens defines a discourse, a term coined by Foucault, as:
a loose structure of interconnected assumptions that makes knowledge possible. (…) Such a discourse, then, produces claims to knowledge and it is these claims – which we accept – that give it its power. There is then an intimate relationship between knowledge and power. Knowledge is a way to define and categorize others.24
This discourse, which has been around, although evolving, for millennia, was accepted as ‘fact’ and used by authors. Levack summarizes the appeal of dramatic representation of witches and witchcraft:
Ever since classical antiquity, dramatists have used the theme of witchcraft in their literary works. The human exercise of mysterious or supernatural evil has always appealed to audiences and offers the dramatist numerous possibilities for character and plot development.25
22 Gibson, 117. 23 Levack, 171. 24
Hans Bertens, Literary Theory: The Basics (Abingdon: Routledge, 2004) 154.
25
Levack goes on to say how the historical accuracy of the literary portrayals of witches is problematic since playwrights had no need to be historically authentic. That said, those representations present to us the stereotype or discourse which became part of the culture and helped to shape the public’s image and opinions of witches. Therefore, although perhaps not an accurate historical description of the discourse prior to the work, the literary
representations could be seen as an accurate description of the subsequent, evolved discourse, formed by the work itself. As Bertens points out, “literature does not simply reflect relations of power, but actively participates in the consolidation and/or construction of discourses and ideologies […] Literature is not simply a product of history, it also actively makes history.”26 This creation of history can be traced briefly through some influential literature that has influenced society’s view of witches.
The Latin poet Quintus Horatius Flaccus (Horace) of the first century BCE describes a witch called Canidia in his work Fifth Episode, whom he describes as worshipping and being aided by Diana, goddess of the night. Levack summarises Horace’s treatment of Canidia:
In depicting Canidia, Horace contributes to the creation of the classical witch-figure, which Ovid and Seneca had already helped to form. That image was enduring, and it influences early modern depictions of the witch, especially during the period of the Renaissance, when works of classical authors had great authority and influence. Horace’s depiction of Canidia was not intended to instill fear of magic and witchcraft in his audience. His grotesque image of the witch […] is intended to mock and debunk witchcraft, not to give it credibility.27
The ‘classical witch-figure’ can be seen as the emerging literary discourse of witches. In the heyday of the witch trials, when the theme of witches was popular, Thomas Middleton wrote The Witch (1616). Levack states: “The play is set in Ravenna, and the chief witch in the play is named Hecate, after the witch of classical mythology. […] [Middleton] was successful in familiarizing his literate audience with contemporary witch beliefs.”28
Any discussion of literary witches has to include the most famous, namely those of Shakespeare. His three most famous witches open the play Macbeth, and although Shakespeare does not include any description of the witches, their early portrayals would most likely have reflected the prevailing discourse. There is even some speculation that Middleton had added Hecate and her scenes to the play.29 The most famous witch scene is, of 26 Bertens, 177. 27 Levack, 22. 28 Levack, 329. 29
"Hecate." Wikipedia. 2005. Wikipedia The free encyclopedia. 12 Sept. 2005 <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hecate>.
course, Act IV, Scene 1, the “Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble”30 scene, where the three witches get the approval of Hecate and meet Macbeth.
Portrayals of witches in popular culture include far too many works to cite here, but the discourse or stereotype, as honed during the witch trials and early literature, lives on today, albeit under threat from emerging alternative images. One well-known image still in use is Witch Hazel from the Bugs Bunny cartoons by Warner Brothers. She is described thus:
Her rotund, green-skinned body is wrapped in plain, blue cloth and supported by twiglike legs. She has wild, black hair (from which hairpins fly whenever she moves), and she wears a crumpled black hat. Her nose and chin jut bulbously from her face, and her mouth sports a single tooth.31
The witch stereotype of the 20th century, as fed to children through cartoons and Halloween costumes, is the direct result of literature and theology over the centuries that have built up a pervasive discourse both in literature and in society. This discourse, or claim to knowledge, has quite a lot of power, and, as Bertens says:
It does not take much effort to show that in many cases so-called knowledge reflects a relation of power between the subject (the knower) and the object (that which the knower knows or studies) rather than what we would call truth.32
With such a powerful and negative discourse about witches, it seems unlikely that any modern woman would actively choose to call herself a witch; yet many do.
30
William Shakespeare, Macbeth Act IV Scene 1, Line 35, ed. A. R. Braunmuller (Cambridge: CUP, 2003) 192.
31
"Witch Hazel (Looney Tunes)." Wikipedia. 2005. Wikipedia The free encyclopedia. 12 Sept. 2005 <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Witch_Hazel_%28Looney_Tunes%29>.
32
From the historical discourse to modern witches
Given the prevailing witch discourse, evolved over millennia, it is appropriate now to pose the question feminist writer Kathryn Rountree asks at the beginning of one of her articles:
Why, we might well ask ourselves, should any woman today see any point in calling herself a witch when she knows full well that the witch of mythology was a misogynistic invention and that the brutal process of witch-labelling led, in Europe, to three centuries of gynocide?33
She tells of a large “movement growing in contemporary Western societies, who are re-examining the witch and the goddess as images of womanhood.”34 It seems that women, especially feminists, are attempting to redeem or reinvent the witch discourse, or create a ““reverse” discourse”35.
As was shown in the previous historical overview, the creation and vilification of the negative witch image is a mainly male activity, with the primary purpose of gaining and maintaining power. Rountree comments on this:
By invoking the symbol of “goddess”, they are recalling the pre-patriarchal, goddess-worshipping societies of Europe from the Paleolithic through until approximately four thousand years ago in which, they claim, women were valued as highly as men and social relations were based on the full participation in society of both sexes. They trace a direct connection between the demise of the Goddess and the demise of women’s position in society. The shift to patriarchy and patriarchal religions, with the eventual dominance of Judeo-Christian monotheism, they claim, meant that women were alienated not only from social and political power but from the powerful aspects of themselves.36
She goes on to make the point that, “The purpose of invoking such societies is to make the points that patriarchy and god-worship are not normative.”37
Another feminist writer, Diane Purkiss, includes witches in the umbrella term of
Paganism, which she states is “the fastest-growing religion in America, and perhaps in the UK as well.”38 There are a number of independent modern witch movements, and Purkiss claims
33
Kathryn Rountree, “The New Witch of the West: Feminists Reclaim the Crone”, Journal of Popular Culture, 30(1997):4: 211-229, 211. 34 Rountree, 211. 35 Bertens, 154. 36 Rountree, 213. 37 Rountree, 213. 38
Diane Purkiss, The Witch in History – Early modern and twentieth-century representations (London: Routledge, 1996), 31.
that this diversity is not seen as a problem by witches since it facilitates the evasion of the pitfalls of organised religions. 39 One of the better-known witch organisations is Wicca, and the modern version of Wicca can be said to have been founded by Gerald Gardner through the publishing of his book Witchcraft Today in 1954. Being founded by a man, and being based, as many think, on the occult rituals of Aleister Crowley,40 the modern Wicca organisation reflects many elements of patriarchy. Rountree comments on the ‘traditional’ modern Wicca’s reaction to feminist witches:
Traditional Wicca covens were horrified, writing off feminist witchcraft as populated by “a load of lesbians.” Such a dismissal of women who conduct their spiritual practices independently of men points up not only the homophobia of Gardnerian witchcraft but also the fact that a fear of women’s independent power was as entrenched in this witchcraft tradition as it is in other religions.41
It appears that the issue of women having power is contentious, as is its inversion, that is, women being powerless, or victims of power. Rountree responds to the “witch as harmless victim” approach used by some historians:
From a feminist perspective […] To interpret witches purely as victims, as many historians […] have done, is to ignore or deny the challenge these women
represented to the dominant institutions within their societies. Feminist scholars have redefined “witch” to mean a woman – whether a sixteenth century village wise woman or a 1990s feminist – who challenges patriarchal control and claims independent knowledge and power.42
She also states that not only were the women who were accused of witchcraft also accused of healing, but also, “of sexual crimes against men and of being organized”43 (my italics). Women were in no way supposed to be powerful or organised, as that would threaten the patriarchal powers of the church and state.
Rountree ends with mentioning the triple aspect of the goddess image,44 which is a common image and one reflected in Hecate herself. The female trinity of Maiden – Mother – Crone is not palatable to a patriarchal system. The first two can be of some use to men: the Maiden serving as a source of sexual attraction and ultimate object of possession, and the
39
See Purkiss, 31.
40
See: Rountree, 216-217 and "Wicca." Wikipedia. 2005. Wikipedia The free encyclopedia. 12 Sept. 2005 <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wicca>. 41 Rountree, 217. 42 Rountree, 221-222. 43 Rountree, 223. 44 Rountree, 226.
Mother serving as the bearer of heirs. The Crone, a woman past childbearing, is of no use to men, and can easily become a threat. Never one to leave pagan images alone and present a threat, the Catholic Church combined and reworked the first two aspects into the image of Mary, the virgin mother of God – pure and good, and the third into the witch – tainted and evil. This can be related to Levi-Strauss’s binary oppositions. As Bertens explains:
Classification in terms of such oppositions, in which the opposites are related to each other because they express either the presence or the absence of one and the same thing (…) seems a natural thing to do (…) In some cases, the meanings that were attached to the original opposites and that found expression in their cultural materialization were clearly rooted in the real world: it makes sense to attach a positive value to things that are edible and it also makes sense to attach a negative value to things that make you sick or will kill you. In other cases, however, those meanings are as arbitrary as the relationship between a linguistic sign and its real-world referent and are based not on factuality (as in the case of edibility), but on what we would call superstition.45
Binary oppositions are not neutral but contain, as intimated above, an inherent power imbalance, as developed in poststructuralism by Derrida:
One of these terms [in a binary oppositional pair] always functions as the centre – it is privileged, in poststructuralist terms. Some terms have always been
privileged – good, truth, masculinity, purity, whiteness – others may be found either in the centre or in the margin. (…) [and] the privileging of certain terms can easily escape our notice.46
Some women, and particularly feminists, are challenging various binary oppositions such as sexless virgin (privileged) versus witch (marginalised), or patriarchy (privileged) versus matriarchy (marginalised). They are rediscovering and reworking the witch and goddess images into ones that empower women. However, Purkiss maintains that:
The myth of the Goddess, with its insistence on an identity grounded in the maternal body, betrays its origins in male fantasy. Although modern witches claim to be recovering a pure matriarchal vision from the remote past, such a claim cannot really be sustained once their borrowings from more recent texts and discourses have been traced. […] The Goddess was originally discovered – or invented – by male scholars serving an agenda which was far from feminist. The myth of an originary matriarchy serves to explain and justify women’s
subordination through a narrative in which men wrest control from women because women are oppressive and incompetent.47
45 Bertens, 62-63. 46 Bertens, 129. 47 Purkiss, 33-34.
Therefore, what at first appears like a relatively straightforward act of redemption, or a reversal of a discourse, is not as simple as it seems. Feminists who justify their reworked images of the witch and goddess still seem to be reinforcing a patriarchal construct.
There is also a danger of the feminists’ reworking the triple goddess and witch archetypes to suit their own needs yet presenting it as fact. Purkiss states that the story popular with feminists of the witch during the “Burning Times” is just that, a myth.48 She goes on to say:
The myth has become important, not because of its historical truth, but because of its mythic significance. What is that significance? It is a story with clear
oppositions. Everyone can tell who is innocent and who is guilty, who is good and who is bad, who is oppressed and who the oppressor. […] This is, above all, a narrative of the Fall, of paradise lost. It is a story about how perfect our lives would be – how perfect we women would be, patient, kind, self-sufficient – if it were not for patriarchy and its violence. It is often linked with another lapsarian myth, the myth of an original matriarchy, through the themes of mother-daughter learning and of matriarchal religions as sources of witchcraft. This witch-story explains the origins and nature of good and evil. It is a religious myth, and the religion it defines is radical feminism.49
It is interesting to note that Rountree points out that the tendency to dichotomise things into polar opposites is a characteristic of patriarchal societies. She gives such examples as good/evil, active/passive, self/other and light/dark, among others, and states that modern witches reject this patriarchal concept of dualism. They favour a more holistic view where such positive/negative dichotomies are seen as too simplistic and limiting.50 However, Purkiss’ ‘radical feminist myth’, or religion as she calls it, is, on the one hand, opposed to dichotomies and supportive of a holistic attitude, yet on the other hand, appears to be built, perhaps unconsciously, on a dichotomy, that of matriarchy good / patriarchy bad. It is still a myth of good and evil, a discourse where the privileged term is reversed, or with the problem externalised to a male / female binary opposition. It seems as if they are in fact perpetuating dichotomic thinking and are merely reversing the power balance of the binary opposition. It could perhaps also be said that this tendency to binary oppositions in the male-dominated poststructuralist literary theory is, in itself, a discourse or construct based on patriarchy, and a
48 See Purkiss, 8. 49 Purkiss, 8. 50 Rountree, 214.
truly feminist or perhaps gender-free poststructuralist literary theory would not contain such binary oppositions.
Despite modern witches, of whatever inclination, trying to redeem and/or rework the image of the witch, fictional portrayals of witches in literature tend to stick to the popular stereotypes or pervasive discourse. As Purkiss notes, “When we say ‘witch’, we can hardly help thinking of Macbeth’s witches, however we judge them politically or aesthetically. It is hard for a literary critic to hear any new story without at once trying to fold it back into the old.”51 However, she also points out that the rise in popularity of witches on the stage coincided with their decline as victims of persecution, and that, “The more witches were represented on stage, the more sceptical the London populace grew”.52 Purkiss traces the development of the witch on stage, through Elizabethan times, noting from that era that, “the surviving stage witch is almost purely Shakespearean. In virtually every one of his thirty-seven plays, witchcraft is a topic, a metaphor, a joke, a story, a half-formulated reference point, a piece of the plot.53 She also concludes that, “Witches and fairies go with thatched cottages, knot gardens, maypoles on the village green and the other appurtenances of the organic society, village-style.”54
Purkiss is, however, quite scathing in her opinion of Shakespeare and his witches: The witches of Macbeth are a low-budget, frankly exploitative collage of
randomly chosen bits of witch-lore, selected not for thematic significance but for its sensation value. […] Shakespeare buries popular culture under a thick
topdressing of exploitative sensationalism, unblushingly strip-mining both popular culture and every learned text he can lay his hands on for the sake of creating an arresting stage event.55
In her conclusion, Purkiss states that, “despite the subtleties of radical feminists, historians and modern witches, the dominant image of the witch is still of a shrieking hag on a broomstick, the Wicked Witch of the West.”56
Bertens relates that in feminist literary criticism, some of the first questions asked regard the roles of women in the text and the themes to which they are connected. He lists various common female stereotypes and states that, “these characters clearly were
51 Purkiss, 180. 52 Purkiss, 181. 53 Purkiss, 189. 54 Purkiss, 190. 55 Purkiss, 207. 56 Purkiss, 276.
constructions, put together […] to serve a not-so-hidden purpose: the continued social and
cultural domination of males.”57
Whether Pratchett falls into the trap of creating such characters or not will be examined. Perhaps he, like Shakespeare, is “unblushingly strip-mining both popular culture and every learned text he can lay his hands on for the sake of creating an arresting”58 novel at the expense of creating authentic female characters. Andrew M. Butler states that, “the
Discworld [can be seen] as a secondary world which gives Pratchett a comic distance from reality in order to criticise the world of the everyday.”59 Whether Pratchett takes that opportunity to criticise patriarchal stereotypes or perpetuate them will be investigated. As a preparation for this, a brief account of Pratchett’s literary style is provided.
An introduction to Terry Pratchett’s writing style
Since he is, “Suffering under the triple damnation of writing popular, humorous fantasy, Pratchett has largely been ignored by academia and the serious press,”60 according to Andrew M. Butler. Pratchett’s distinctive style of writing relies heavily on satire and parody, and any stereotype is fair game. As John Clute says:
It is almost as though he were some eighteenth-century composer – like Handel or Bach – for whom parody served not as a weapon but as a straightforward, value-neutral compositional technique. […] Pratchett’s ‘borrowings’, like Handel’s, are in no sense simple steals of material; nor are they one-to-one mappings that operate under an exaggeration transform, so that a muted cry in the original becomes a bathetic bleat in the parody[…] His parodies never make a ‘point’; their incipits are never mentioned. Hence the deliciousness of his first novel.61 This ‘technique’ of Pratchett’s means that defining his literary style can be perhaps best served by giving examples. A characteristic example of Pratchett’s satirical wit can be seen in Equal Rites when Granny follows some dwarves back to where they live:
The dwarf halls rang to the sound of hammers, although mainly for effect. Dwarves found it hard to think without the sound of hammers, which they found
57 Bertens, 97. 58 Purkiss, 207. 59
Andrew M. Butler, “Theories of Humour”, Terry Pratchett: Guilty of Literature, eds. Andrew M. Butler et al. (Maryland: Old Earth Books, 2004) 69.
60
Andrew M. Butler et al., “Preface”, Butler et al., viii.
61
soothing, so well-off dwarves in the clerical professions paid goblins to hit small ceremonial anvils, just to maintain the correct dwarvish image.62
Pratchett’s approach to description is also distinctive, and seems to run along the lines of, ‘why say something in one boring word when lots of words can be funny.’ Some examples of his humorous descriptions are:
curiosity not only killed the cat but threw it in the river with weights tied to its feet. The lodgings were on the top floor next to the well-guarded premises of a respectable dealer in stolen property because, as Granny had heard, good fences make good neighbours. (ER,164-165)
She [a fairy godmother] was not someone to use extreme language, but it was possible to be sure that when she deployed a mild term like ‘bee in her bonnet’ she was using it to define someone whom she believed to be several miles over the madness horizon and accelerating.63
Pratchett often makes allusions or references to other texts, and some of his books are openly based on other literary works. He addresses this in his Author’s Note at the beginning of Lords and Ladies: “what took place [in Wyrd Sisters] was a plot not unadjacent to that of a famous play about a Scottish king.”64 The play performed in Wyrd Sisters is not unlike Shakespeare’s Hamlet, and Lords and Ladies itself has a number of similarities to
Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. In Maskerade, we see parallels with Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical Phantom of the Opera, and other parallels have been drawn with other works.65 With Shakespeare’s Macbeth, Pratchett openly borrows the opening dialogue for Wyrd Sisters:
As the cauldron bubbled an eldritch voice shrieked: ‘When shall we three meet again?’
There was a pause.
Finally one voice said, in far more ordinary tones: ‘Well, I can do next Tuesday.’66
Pratchett also alludes to characters from other works, for example in Witches Abroad, Gollum from Tolkien’s The Hobbit makes an appearance (WA, 59-60), and popular fables and fairy
62
Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites (London: Transworld, 1987) 142. Further references will be in the text as ER.
63
Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad (London: Transworld, 1994) 16. Further references will be in the text as WA.
64
Terry Pratchett, Lords and Ladies (London: Transworld, 1993) 5. Further references will be in the text as LL.
65
See: Butler, The Pocket Essential Terry Pratchett.
66
tales are also used, such as Little Red Riding Hood, Sleeping Beauty, the Three Little Pigs and Goldilocks.
Other allusions Pratchett makes are to non-fictional phenomena, for example, the stone circle called ‘The King’s Men’ in between Great Rollright and Little Rollright in England which is said to be magical, partly because no one can accurately count the number of stones in the circle:
The stone was about the same height as a tall man, and made of bluish tinted rock. It was considered intensely magical because, although there was only one of it,
no-one had ever been able to count it; if it saw anyone looking at it speculatively,
it shuffled behind them. It was the most self-effacing monolith ever discovered. (WS, 88)
He also alludes to some well-known airlines (TWA, BA and Pan Am):
‘And we could call ourselves …’ she paused. As always on the Discworld, which was right on the very edge of unreality, little bits of realness crept in whenever someone’s mind was resonating properly. This happened now.
‘…Three Witches Airborne,’ she said. ‘How about that?’ ‘Broomsticks Airborne,’ said Magrat. ‘Or Pan … air …’
‘There’s no need to bring religion into it,’ sniffed Granny. (WA, 86-87)
Even documents pertaining to witches and other demons are fair game (or easy targets): “‘This is from Ossory’s Malleus Maleficarum,’ he [the vampire Count] said. ‘Why do you look so surprised? I helped write it, you silly man!’”67
Pratchett’s satirical style happily borrows from, or alludes to, other works and thus makes his works entertaining with frequent hidden and not-so-hidden references. Yet, at the same time, he is also making philosophical and political statements and judgments. For example, in his treatment of wizards he highlights and ridicules, and thus satirizes, their academic hierarchy and usefulness. Pratchett states, in not so many words, that if one wants to learn something, a university is the last place one should go. Organised religions are
treated similarly, with priests being ridiculed and beliefs being mocked. Pratchett is following in the footsteps of many in the British satirical tradition who have ridiculed the great and the powerful. He uses satire for social commentary, and witches are not exempt:
In the Ramtops witches were accorded a status similar to that which other cultures gave to nuns, or tax collectors, or cesspit cleaners. That is to say, they were respected, sometimes admired, generally applauded for doing a job which
67
logically had to be done, but people never felt quite comfortable in the same room with them. (ER, 52)
It is Pratchett’s treatment of witches, and ultimately the nature of his alleged feminism, which will be explored here.
Terry Pratchett’s witches
It is Purkiss’ enduring image of the witch that we first meet in Terry Pratchett’s Discworld. The first witch we encounter, Esmerelda Weatherwax, otherwise known as Granny or Esme, sets the tone for all other witches that follow. Purkiss’ village-style witch of the thatched cottage and herb garden is what we find in the Discworld, at least in the form of Granny, but of course with a Pratchett flavour:
The witch’s cottage consisted of so many extensions and lean-tos that it was difficult to see what the original building had looked like, or even if there had ever been one. In the summer it was surrounded by dense beds of what Granny loosely called ‘the Herbs’ – strange plants, hairy or squat or twining, with curious flowers or vivid fruits or unpleasantly bulging pods. Only Granny knew what they were all for, and any wood-pigeon hungry enough to attack them generally emerged giggling to itself and bumping into things (or, sometimes, never emerged at all). (ER, 30)
Granny Weatherwax also conforms to the somewhat inaccurate stereotype of witches being female:
Witches were cunning, she [Esk] recalled, and usually very old, or at least they tried to look old, and they usually did slightly suspicious, homely and organic magics and some of them had beards. They were also, without exception, women. (ER, 88)
Pratchett is not content with just using the predominant discourse for witches, however, but explores and satirizes them. The title Equal Rites, by its name, indicates that it is an exploration of gender identities and stereotypes. It does not take long to see which side Pratchett apparently takes, with his satirical descriptions of wizards, though at the same time he clearly delineates the power imbalance that favours men. One example of this is when Esk, the young female protagonist of Equal Rites who wants to be a wizard, meets up with an older wizard and his apprentice on their way to the Unseen University, the school for wizards:
‘I happen to believe that witchcraft is a fine career, for a woman. A very noble calling.’
‘You do? I mean, it is?’
‘Oh yes. Very useful in rural districts for, for people who are – having babies, and so forth. However, witches are not wizards. Witchcraft is Nature’s way of allowing women access to the magical fluxes, but you must remember it is not
high magic.’
‘I see. Not high magic,’ said Esk grimly. […]
‘High magic requires great clarity of thought, you see, and women’s talents do not lie in that direction.’ (ER, 150)
The patronisation is taken to the extreme and thus parodied.
As well as ridiculing misogyny, Pratchett comments specifically on the stereotype of witches’ activities as outlined by Levack and other male historians as well as most by feminist historians. Early on in Equal Rites, Granny Weatherwax is conversing with a dead wizard, who is occupying, or being, a tree (the wizard’s dialogue is in italics):
Women have never been wizards. It’s against nature. You might as well say that witches can be men.
If you define a witch as one who worships the pancreative urge, that is, venerates the basic – the tree began, and continued for several minutes. Granny
Weatherwax listened in impatient annoyance to phrases like Mother Goddesses and primitive moon worship and told herself that she was well aware of what being a witch was all about, it was about herbs and curses and flying around of nights and generally keeping on the right side of tradition, and it certainly didn’t involve mixing with goddesses, mothers or otherwise, who apparently got up to some very questionable tricks. And when the tree started talking about dancing
naked she tried not to listen, because although she was aware that somewhere
under her complicated strata of vests and petticoats there was some skin, that didn’t mean to say she approved of it. (ER, 48)
Not content with merely ridiculing the dominant historical discourse, it seems that Pratchett attempts to reverse it. As is claimed by a number of feminists, many women accused of being witches were old and alone and thus a burden on the community, begging for food.
Pratchett’s version of this is exemplified by Granny:
‘I never pay for anything,’ said Granny. ‘People never let me pay. I can’t help it if people gives me things the whole time, can I? When I walks down the street people are always running out with cakes they’ve just baked, and fresh beer, and old clothes that’ve hardly been worn at all. “Oh, Mistress Weatherwax, pray take this basket of eggs”, they say. People are always very kind. Treat people right an’ they’ll treat you right. That’s respect. Not having to pay,’ she finished, sternly, ‘is what bein’ a witch is all about.’ (WA, 58-59)
Pratchett also addresses the discourse directly: “Artists and writers have always had a rather exaggerated idea about what goes on at a witch’s sabbat. This comes from spending too much time in small rooms with the curtains down, instead of getting out in the healthy fresh air.” (WA, 18) He then continues his examination of the stereotypical Sabbath by commenting at length on different aspects, such as dancing naked, having meetings, and having odd ‘food’ and mystic ointments. (WA, 18-19)
Pratchett also addresses the impact of Shakespeare’s witches on the modern witch stereotype. In Wyrd Sisters, a play, not unlike Macbeth, is performed, with Granny in the audience, and she remarks to herself about the power of plays:
Granny turned slowly in her seat to look at the audience. They were staring at the performance, their faces rapt. The words washed over them in a breathless air. This was real. This was more real even than reality. This was history. It might not be true, but that had nothing to do with it. […]
That’s us down there, she thought. Everyone knows who we really are, but the things down there are what they’ll remember – three gibbering old baggages in pointy hats. All we’ve ever done, all we’ve ever been, won’t exist any more. […]
Whoever wrote this Theatre knew about the uses of magic. Even I believe what’s happening, and I know there’s no truth in it. (WS, 282-283)
This seems to comment on the power of a discourse when used in literature, here a play. Although there are many witches in the Discworld series, Pratchett has created a few main characters that he has developed and used numerous times. It is these five witches that will be examined here: Esmerelda Weatherwax, the strongest and most prominent of the witches; Gytha Ogg, Esmeralda’s sidekick and friend who is renowned for her sexual innuendos; Magrat Garlick, New Age wet hen; Agnes Nitt, sexually unappealing split-personality; and Tiffany Aching, child extraordinaire.
Esmerelda Weatherwax
As mentioned, Esmerelda Weatherwax, also known as Granny or Esme, first appears in Equal
Rites in the role of midwife, but we soon realise that this midwife is more than just a deliverer
of babies. The implications of this are made fairly clear early on: “She was a witch. That was quite acceptable in the Ramtops, and no-one had a bad word to say about witches. At least, not if he wanted to wake up in the morning the same shape as he went to bed.” (ER, 19)
It can be said that Granny is the most developed and complex of the witch characters in the Discworld novels. She appears in all eight of the novels in which witches appear at all, and is the unspoken leader of the leaderless, non-hierarchical association of witches:
Unlike wizards, who like nothing better than a complicated hierarchy, witches don’t go in much for the structured approach to career progression. It’s up to each individual witch to take on a girl to hand the area over to when she dies. Witches are not by nature gregarious, at least with other witches, and they certainly don’t have leaders.
Granny Weatherwax was the most highly-regarded of the leaders they didn’t have. (WS, 8)
Granny’s appearance seems to fit the historical stereotype. She is a silver-haired old woman in a black pointy hat, (ER, 60, 32) and is very much aware of the importance of appearances:
‘So people see you coming in the hat and the cloak and they know you’re a witch and that’s why your magic works?’ said Esk.
‘That’s right,’ said Granny. ‘It’s called headology.’ She tapped her silver hair, which was drawn into a tight bun that could crack rocks.
‘But it’s not real!’ Esk protested. ‘That’s not magic, it’s – it’s –’
‘Listen,’ said Granny. ‘If you give someone a bottle of red jollop for their wind it may work, right, but if you want it to work for sure then you let their mind
make it work for them. Tell ‘em it’s moonbeams bottled in fairy wine or
something. Mumble over it a bit.’ (ER, 60)
Granny’s image in the minds of the readers has been influenced however by Pratchett’s dust jacket artists, Paul Kidby and Josh Kirby, who have kept Granny’s appearance roughly consistent throughout the Discworld series. The depiction of Granny, with her wart-covered, hooked nose and protruding chin, bears a striking resemblance to Michelangelo’s drawing, ‘Head of the Common sibyl’, as can be seen in the New Cambridge Shakespeare edition of
Macbeth.68 It is the power of the drawn image that prevails, since Granny is, in fact, described as lacking warts, although she mourns this, as it does not help with her “crone-credibility” (ER, 196). The caption to Michelangelo’s drawing states that the model for the female figure was actually male, and that could also sum up Granny’s character.
Although clearly gendered female, Granny has many characteristics that are commonly seen as male, or at least ones that are highly valued by men. The definition of masculinity is both easy and hard to pin down. One useful summarisation is given here:
Social scientists Deborah David and Robert Brannon (1976) give the following four rules for establishing masculinity:
1. No Sissy Stuff: anything that even remotely hints of femininity is prohibited. A real man must avoid any behavior or characteristic associated with women;
2. Be a Big Wheel: masculinity is measured by success, power, and the admiration of others. One must possess wealth, fame, and status to be considered manly;
3. Be a Sturdy Oak: manliness requires rationality, toughness, and self-reliance. A man must remain calm in any situation, show no emotion, and admit no weakness;
4. Give 'em Hell: men must exude an aura of daring and aggression, and must be willing to take risks, to "go for it" even when reason and fear suggest otherwise. 69
Each point will be compared with Granny Weatherwax’s character.
Firstly, there is the question of whether Granny avoids any female characteristics or “Sissy stuff”. In terms of sexuality, Granny has never been married: “Front doors in Bad Ass were used only by brides and corpses, and Granny had always avoided becoming either.” (ER, 31) She is not typically maternal, and it is gradually revealed that she is still a virgin (LL, 96, 374, 377). In fact, any hint that she is maternal is taken as an insult:
‘Um,’ it began, ‘look, mother –’
‘I’m not a mother,’ snapped Granny. ‘I’m certainly not your mother, if you ever had mothers, which I doubt. If I was your mother I’d have run away before you were born.’
‘It’s only a figure of speech,’ said the head reproachfully. ‘It’s a damned insult is what it is!’ (ER, 141)
68
Shakespeare, 41.
69
Robert Brannon, “Introduction”, The Forty-Nine Percent Majority, eds. Robert Brannon and Deborah David, as quoted in Martin P. Levine, Gay Macho (New York: New York University Press, 1998) 145.
When confronted with the prospect of explaining ‘the birds and the bees’ to Magrat, Granny dodges: “Granny Weatherwax had done many unusual things in her time, and it took a lot to make her refuse a challenge. But this time she gave in.” (WS, 49) She then advises Magrat to speak to Nanny, since she knows all about such things, being thrice married and a mother many times over.
Being a witch, for Granny, means not being feminine: “‘I’m not a lady, I’m a witch,’ said Granny.” (ER, 223) She is not openly emotional and regards personal things as
unimportant:
‘Got important things to do,’ said Granny, without turning around. ‘Been letting everyone down.’
‘Some people might say this is important.’
‘No. It’s just personal. Personal’s not the same as important. People just think it is.’ (LL, 228)
She is ruled by her head and not her heart, which is typically male: “’Heartless it may be, but headless it ain’t. I’ve never claimed to be nice, just to be sensible.’” (LL, 149) Therefore, it can be claimed that Granny avoids characteristics that are coded feminine.
The second point of the definition deals with the possession of success and power, and thus status. Granny is respected by non-witches: “his wife, like every other woman in the village, held Granny Weatherwax in solemn regard, even in awe” (ER, 41) And even at the Witch Trials, surrounded by witches: “There had been a crowd around the gate leading into the field, but there was something about that ‘Hah!’ The crowd parted, as if by magic, and the women pulled their children a little closer to them as Granny walked right up to the gate.” Even the Nac Mac Feegle acknowledge that she is the “hag o’ hags” (HFS, 287, 237). It can be thus asserted that she is successful. As for power, there are many examples of her power, these being a few:
The trees around her began to sway and the dust from the road sprang up into writing shapes that tried to swirl out of her way. Granny Weatherwax extended one long arm and at the end of it unfolded one long finger and from the tip of its curving nail there was a brief flare of octarine fire. (WS, 170)
‘They say she can turn herself into a fox. Or anything. A bird, even. Anything. That’s how she always knows what’s going on.’ (ER, 28)
‘You wanted to know where I’d put myself,’ said Granny. ‘I didn’t go anywhere. I just put it into something alive, and you took it. You invited me in. I’m in every muscle in your body and I’m in your head, oh yes. I was in the blood, Count. In the blood. I ain’t been vampired. You’ve been Weatherwaxed.’ (CJ, 398)
There are even explicit references to her fame: “Esk knew that she [Granny] was famous throughout the mountains for special potions for illnesses that her mother – and some young women too, once in a while – just hinted at with raised eyebrows and lowered voices” (ER, 43) Therefore, it can be asserted that Granny has success and power, and thus status.
Thirdly, self-reliance, toughness and a desire to not show weakness is a
characteristic of masculinity. Granny is nothing if not self-reliant: “‘What I say is, if a witch can’t look after herself, she’s got no business calling herself a witch.’” (WS, 156) She is also tough, both externally, enduring numerous physical trials, but also internally: “Very few people in the world had more self-control than Granny Weatherwax. It was as rigid as a bar of cast iron. And about as flexible.” (WA, 30) Although sometimes feeling weak, either physically (CJ, 299) or mentally, she never shows it: “Granny had built a solid reputation on always knowing the answer to everything. Getting her to admit ignorance, even to herself, was an astonishing achievement.” (ER, 162)
Therefore, it can be attested that Granny is self-reliant, tough and shows no weakness.
Finally, the question arises as to whether Granny is aggressive and willing to take risks. Granny’s aggressiveness is mostly implied: the trolls call her “She Who Must Be Avoided” and the dwarves call her “Go Around the Other Side of the Mountain”70 (M, 200, 201). Sometimes, though, her aggressiveness is portrayed:
‘Do you want to find out how much power I have, madam? Here, on the grass of Lancre?’
She stepped forward. Power crackled in the air. The Queen had to step back. ‘My own turf?’ said Granny.
She slapped the Queen again, almost gently.
‘What’s this?’ said Granny Weatherwax. ‘Can’t you resist me? Where your power now, madam? Gather your power, madam!’
‘You foolish old crone!’
It was felt by every living creature for a mile around. Small things died. Birds spiralled out of the sky. Elves and humans alike dropped to the ground, clutching their heads. […]
Granny Weatherwax dropped to her knees, clutching her head. (LL, 345)
Granny’s character appears willing to take risks, though she always appears certain of herself: “Granny Weatherwax was not a good loser. From her point of view, losing was something that happened to other people.” (WA, 102) She even risks death, challenging the character
70
Terry Pratchett, Maskerade (London: Transworld, 1996) 200 & 201. Further references will be in the text as M.
Death to a duel, double or quits, and ‘wins’ (actually she cheats Death), all for the life of a little child whom she has met for the first time. When she wins, she then gives Death a quick osteopathic treatment for his repetitive strain injury. When asked by Death what would have happened if she had lost, she states she would have broken his arm (M, 97-102). Thus, it can be contended that Granny is aggressive, when it suits her, and takes risks.
Looking at the definition of masculinity as a whole, it seems that Pratchett has, like Michelangelo, created his witch, Granny, in the image of a male, but not only a typical male – a male hero. She replays various heroic struggles in most of the novels. In Equal Rites Granny battles the head wizard and wins. In Wyrd Sisters, she battles a king and the concept of theatre, the power of stereotypes, and wins. In Witches Abroad, she battles her evil sister, the Voodoo witch, and Death, and wins. In Lords and Ladies she battles the Queen of the Fairies, and almost loses, but wins. In Maskerade, she has a minor role, but locks horns with an embezzler and a child with a split personality and wins. In Carpe Jugulum she battles vampires, infecting them when bitten, and wins.
Granny is not portrayed as invincible, however, which would tend to make her
character one-dimensional. She reveals weakness, in carefully controlled situations. In Lords
and Ladies, after Magrat stops being a witch, Granny reveals to Nanny: “‘I’m losing my
touch, that’s what it is. Getting old, Gytha.’” She is aware of her mortality: “The point was that Granny Weatherwax had a feeling she was going to die. This was beginning to get on her nerves.” She apparently dies while battling the Queen of the Fairies. However, she manages the seemingly impossible by ‘borrowing’ a swarm of bees, and later returns to her body (LL, 74-75, 89, 351, 360). In Carpe Jugulum, she doubts her ability to triumph over evil: “‘I’m beaten, Gytha. Even before I start. Maybe someone else has a way, but I haven’t. I’m up against a mind that’s better’n mine [a vampire]. I just about keep it away from me but I can’t get in. I can’t fight back.’” However, being Granny, she finds a way to win, turning her weakness into a strength. She confronts the vampire Count but cannot overpower him, and so is bitten. While she is battling the ‘call of the blood’, she has an internal battle with her
shadow and wins that most important battle. She triumphs over the vampires by ‘borrowing’ her own blood, and so the vampires are instead ‘Weatherwaxed’ (CJ, 203, 276-277, 398).
By the eighth book in which Granny appears, A Hat Full of Sky, although growing older, Granny is still a force of Nature to be reckoned with: “For an old woman Mistress Weatherwax could move quite fast. She strode over the moors as if distance was a personal insult.” However, the inexorability of age is starting to show and Granny cannot keep the
pace her mind sets when walking. An allusion is made to the inevitability of Granny’s death through Tiffany musing over her grandmother’s death (HFS, 283, 284-285, 271).
The witch custom of training up a girl to take her place when she dies seems to be implied near the end of the book when Granny talks to Tiffany about ‘real magic’: “You were fed up with babies and silly women? Then this is … the other stuff.” (HFS, 295) This is foreshadowed at the end of A Hat Full of Sky, when Tiffany muses:
You pretend to be the big bad wicked witch, and you’re not. You test people all the time, test, test, test, but you really want them to be clever enough to beat you. Because it must be hard, being the best. You’re not allowed to stop. You can only be beaten, and you’re too proud to ever lose. Pride! You’ve turned it into terrible strength, but it eats away at you. Are you afraid to laugh in case you hear an early cackle?
We’ll meet again, one day. We both know it. We’ll met again, at the Witch Trials. (HFS, 344)
After her defeat of the hiver, Tiffany finds that Granny has given her her hat (HFS, 314-316). “No-one knew better than Granny Weatherwax that hats were important. They weren’t just clothing. Hats defined the head. They defined who you were.” (WA, 185) This handing over of the hat could perhaps be seen as the witch method of handing over the baton.
It seems that the stereotype that best fits Granny is not one of the common female stereotypes. Bertens lists a few: “the woman […] as immoral and dangerous seductress, the woman as eternally dissatisfied shrew, the woman as cute but essentially helpless, the woman as unworldly, self-sacrificing angel.”71 However, none of these come close to encompassing her character. She is more a man than a woman. In the binary opposition male/female, for a person to possess power, that person must be a man. If the character is stereotypically female, then that female must be masculinized72.
71
Bertens, 97.
72
How interesting that in the English language there is ‘masculinize’, meaning to make masculine, which has a positive connotation, ‘emasculate’, meaning to take away masculinity, which has a negative connotation, ‘feminize’ meaning to make feminine, which has a negative connotation, and ‘defeminize’, meaning to take away femininity, which also has a negative connotation. See the Oxford English Dictionary On-line for more detail.
Nanny Ogg
It is in Wyrd Sisters, the second book containing witches, that Pratchett moves from a single witch to a coven of three. Here we meet Gytha Ogg, usually called Nanny, and it appears that she is a long-time friend and sidekick of Granny’s. We are told early on, though, that Nanny is not at all like Granny, although powerful in her own way:
Most witches preferred to live in isolated cottages with the traditional curly chimneys and weed-grown thatch. Granny Weatherwax approved of this; it was no good being a witch unless you let people know.
Nanny Ogg didn’t care much about what people knew and even less for what they thought, and lived in a new, knick-knack crammed cottage in the middle of Lancre town itself and at the heart of her own private empire. Various daughters and daughters-in-law came in to cook and clean on a sort of rota. Every flat surface was stuffed with ornaments brought back by far-travelling member of the family. Sons and grandsons kept the logpile stacked, the roof shingled […] No other tyrant in the whole history of the world had ever achieved a domination so complete. (WS, 64)
Her appearance is not as austere as Granny’s: “Nanny, on the other hand, was as gummy as a baby and had a face like a small dried raisin.” (WS, 43)
Nanny embodies the role of Mother, (CJ, 131-132) and is most definitely feminine. Using the four rules of masculinity, it can be seen that Nanny is most definitely not
masculine. There is varied evidence of her feminine characteristics, the first criterion of the masculinity definition:
‘I’ve got 15 children.’ (M, 67)
Nanny Ogg was used to the idea of domestic service. As a girl, she’d been a maid at Lancre Castle, where the king was inclined to press his intentions and anything else he could get hold of. Young Gytha Ogg had already lost her innocence* but she had some clear ideas about unwelcome intentions, and when he jumped out at her in the scullery she had technically committed treason with a large leg of lamb swung in both hands.
*[Pratchett footnote:] Without regret, since she hadn’t found any use for it. (M, 169)
‘I’ve been a bride three times, and that’s only the official score.’ (LL, 231)
Food as an aphrodisiac was not a concept that had ever caught on in Lancre, apart from Nanny Ogg’s famous Carrot and Oyster Pie* *[Pratchett footnote:] Carrots so you can see in the dark, she’d explain, and oysters so’s you’ve got something to look at. (LL, 235)
The second criterion is about being successful, and Nanny has her successes but is always overshadowed by Granny, one example being that she does not have the
self-discipline to ‘borrow’. (CJ, 144) She admits to herself that Granny is a superior witch, though feels that she is superior to Granny when it comes to feminine areas:
‘You…you do know what kind of place this is, do you, Esme?’ said Nanny Ogg. She felt curiously annoyed. She’d happily give way to Granny’s expertise in the worlds of mind and magic, but she felt very strongly that there were some more specialized areas that were definitely Ogg territory, and Granny Weatherwax had no business even to know what they were.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Granny, calmly.
Nanny’s patience gave out. ‘It’s a house of ill repute, is what it is!’
‘On the contrary,’ said Granny. ‘I believe people speak very highly of it.’ (M, 132)
She does not have the status of Granny: “a little old washerwoman-type who got drunk and sang songs” (WA, 62); “Common as muck” (M, 219).
The third criterion refers to being rational, tough and self-reliant: “Nanny’s philosophy of life was to do what seemed like a good idea at the time, and do it as hard as possible. It had never let her down.” (M, 170) She readily shows emotion: “Nanny Ogg laughed a lot.” (LL, 245)
In terms of the fourth criterion, daringness and aggression, she usually prefers to blend in:
People didn’t take any notice of little old ladies who looked as though they fitted in, and Nanny Ogg could fit in faster than a dead chicken in a maggot factory.
Besides, Nanny had one additional little talent which was a mind like a buzzsaw behind a face like an elderly apple. (M, 176)
Therefore, according to the definition of masculinity, it appears that Nanny is most definitely feminine, and there are numerous references to her having been sexually active in the past, summarised here: “Her courtships had been more noted for their quantity than their quality.” However, she reveals that she is no longer sexually active: “Long-banked fires gave off a little smoke.” (LL, 219, 218)
Like Granny, Nanny appears in all eight ‘witch’ novels, although only briefly in the final two. Unlike Granny, Nanny seems to fit comfortably into the female stereotype of immoral over-the-hill trollop, especially given the ‘quantity’ quotation above.
